The Power of a Father’s Love

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“Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third.” ~ Marge Piercy

One night, in the middle of 2010, I was on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. It was late, and we had been asleep for some hours. The room phone rang, waking us up. When I answered there was no-one on the end of the line. I hung up, groggy and disoriented, turned over and went back to sleep.

The phone rang again.

Again I answered it. No-one there. I hung up, cranky to have been woken a second time.

For the next two hours the phone kept ringing. Of course there was no-one on the end of the line. In frustration my husband pulled it out of the wall.

Then my cell phone rang. In the middle of the ocean. Miles from having any sort of reception. I fumbled for it and then gave up in disgust as once again there was no-one on the line.

And then had a realisation.

“Someone’s trying to contact me,” I said to my weary and shaken husband. We both knew what I meant. A psychic thing.

“I’m going outside to do a meditation,” I told him. Wrapping a robe around me I went out onto the balcony and perched on a sunlounge. Soon I was deep in meditation, asking for guidance around what had just happened. Nothing came for a long time, and I pulled my robe closer as the air cooled before dawn.

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Suddenly in quick succession I saw a single vehicle accident on a country road as a series of jolted images – sliding, rolling, slamming into a tree. It was so real I could smell the metallic tang in the air, the dust, and the blood. It was as if I were in the driver’s seat, and then somehow I was standing there, beside the mangled car. Steeling myself, I bent to look through the window.

A moan came from behind me. I whipped my head around.

I knew his face, but I couldn’t place him. He looked so lost, so broken, and I found it very hard to breathe. It came to me slowly. He was the husband of a client. I’d never met him, but I’d seen his photo, maybe two years before. The same man was standing on the road. With a sickening feeling I understood. He was dead.

I don’t do dead people, I thought to myself, feeling panicked. Come on guys, I don’t DO dead people.

It all went black. Like the lights going out in a cinema. My husband was shaking my shoulder. “Come on honey, you’re freezing. Come inside and have a shower. We’re meeting for breakfast in half an hour.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do it. Can you meet them?” We were supposed to be breakfasting with friends, but I was hollow, shaken and distressed. And I knew I still had unfinished business somehow.

Ben gave me one of those looks. Loving, understanding, unhappy all at once. “You okay?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“No. Neither am I. That was the freakiest thing. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. A car accident I think.” I felt terrible for Ben. Here I was on holidays and I was still working, my world affecting his, intruding on what was supposed to be a well-earned break.

After Ben left I took a warm shower and then dressed and settled back into meditation again, propped up in bed with the blankets over my legs. This time my entry back into that strange space was unsettlingly quick.

The man was where I’d left him, pacing up and down on the baking bitumen beside his wrecked car. “I need you to call my wife,” he said.

My heart began racing. Nicole, none of this is real, I told myself. “You’re dead,” I said stupidly to the man.

“Yes.” He calmed down. “But it’s okay.”

In fact he was calmer than me. I was still feeling the horror and trauma of his passing.

He put his hand on my shoulder and a warmth flooded through me. “Call my wife. Not about me,” he added, “it’s about our daughter. Our youngest daughter. Please. It’s urgent.”

I nodded yes. What else could I do? A picture flashed into my mind of a tiny baby girl, perhaps a year old. She was shallow breathing in a small crib. I felt a fluttering flooding feeling in my chest.

Father and daughter – by Emilia Pawlikowska

“My daughter’s dying,” he continued. “It’s her heart, she’s got a hole in her heart. I can see it now. She was sleepy all the time, and losing weight, and our family doctor said she was fine. But we still thought there was something wrong. She just wasn’t thriving. She was fussy and wouldn’t eat. And then she began to have blue fingernails. So my wife took her to the hospital. The doctors there sent her home. They said she was just cold.”

“Please,” he said again. “I can’t reach her. I can’t reach my wife. I tried, and then I thought of you. You have to call my wife and get her to take our daughter to the hospital. She needs to go right away. She needs to make the doctors understand. My wife will listen to you. Call her!”

I snapped back into my body abruptly, my open eyes trying to take in our room. Lurching off the bed I opened my laptop, scrolling through my old emails. Finally I found her name and the contact details she’d submitted via my website. I checked my cell phone. There was one bar of service. I stepped back out onto the balcony. There was land sliding by us. My signal managed to get a little stronger and I dialled the number with a shaking hand.

It was one of the hardest phone calls of my life.

But because of a father’s love and persistence a little girl was able to have open heart surgery, and now can lead a healthy life.

I spent the rest of my day sitting on the balcony, looking out over the ocean and being grateful for solitude. My darling husband told our friends I was unwell, and gave me the space I needed to pull my head back together.

And the next day Barcelona opened her arms to me, and I gave myself over to her healing charms.

Hi! I'm Nicole Cody. I am a writer, psychic, metaphysical teacher and organic farmer. I love to read, cook, walk on the beach, dance in the rain and grow things. Sometimes, to entertain my cows, I dance in my gumboots. Gumboot dancing is very under-rated.

Nicole, what an incredible story. Sorry you had to go through that on your holiday, but you are that powerful and connected.

I had a friend tell me that crows are sometimes people who just died taking the body of a crow. I didn’t believe my friend, but when my grandmother died in 2009, I saw this crow starting at its reflection and I knew it had a connection to my grandmother.

How do I handle this? Good question. Prayer, meditation, a wonderful and supportive husband and close friends and family. And knowing I chose this path, and that I’m here to be of service. The rewards always outweigh the hardship ♥ xx

You truly are an earth angel! I feel so blessed to have found your blogs and to be able to read of your amazing experiences. The obvious love and empathy that shines from your soul must be the light that attracts spirits to you – they know they are in safe hands!
The way you dealt with such a delicate issue is so inspiring. This story illustrates the wonderful trust and faith you have in spirit and they in you. Thank God that you listened and acted upon the information. That poor women could so easily have been mourning the death of two loved ones had you not accepted the enormous responsibility of this task. Many blessings to you.

{{{HUGS}}} Thank you for your kind words. It is a responsibility that at times is almost overwhelming, but I have never wanted to walk away from it. I feel that spiritual work is my calling, and writing and cooking and living the life I do is my reward. I am deeply Blessed. xx

I started getting chills about half way through this post– the sign my body makes when it feels truth. And now I have tears in my eyes.

Thank you for making my body resonate with life.

My own relationship with my father has been healing, healing, healing . . . it has been so powerful and transformative. While I do not have a literal hole in my heart, I have felt like I have had one for years metaphorically speaking. My father is still alive (something I thank God for every day– we just celebrated his 73 birthday) and yet I feel like our human forms are finally able to communicate with each other the way our souls do on another plane.

What courage you have! What a beautiful act of love!

Thank you for reminding me exactly what we are doing here on this marvelous earth as we take human form.

✨AMAZING…. My beautiful friend and I read this together in a coffee shop… The angel bumps were so strong as we read this by the end.. Felt like We had left our body’s thanks again Nic for sharing your magic with us… .. WOW✨

Gosh another full on experience Nicole, thanks for sharing. Just wondering what specifically you do when you choose to go into a meditation? Do you have specific questions you ask yourself? Or do you just sync yourself in with nature and allow/channel whatever comes through? (or both…)

I’ve been meditating for so long now Lachlan, that I’m able to ease into that space readily. It can morph from meditating to channeling or that connection space, but I always start with meditation. I even do that when I work with clients – get into that flow space first. That’s where all the magic happens! PS I’ll be running some workshops on this later this year 😀

Powerful story. I have shared it on my Intimacy of Death & Dying Facebook page as it adds to the mounting material that shows us we need to make friends with death & dying rather than avoid it as most do. Thank you for sharing a very touching experience. PS I am now reconsidering those empty phone calls.

Nicole, had the Daddy died the same day the little girl went to surgery or had he passed before that? Aren’t you glad you listened “to the call”? I can’t imagine the emotions that were flying through you at the time. You have a beautiful gift–I hope you never doubt it.

Oh my gosh! I’m sort of freaked out. I’m so worried about my dad, and i’m going on a cruise in two weeks (less than). I can’t believe you must see these things. I know it’s a gift, but the “bad news” is quite unnerving. Big Hugs, and please pray especially May 26 – June 11 🙂 I suspect i’ll be going to see dad the week end of June 15! Breathing and praying for the little girl with the hole in her heart, and the bigger hole from losing her daddy! The one who knew her suffering. Beautiful/sad! XO Mel

this gift is such a heavy burden, i wish there was a way we could share the load to help you out! truly remarkable! i’m so glad your husband is such a loving ally, awesome! sending lots of good vibes for healing and happiness! sx

Yes, I did. And it was awful. I actually spoke to her a number of times that day. The first was to tell her to go to hospital with her daughter. At that stage I only said I had spoken with him, but not why or how. I promised to call her again after she had gone to the hospital. Later, when her daughter was in surgery, I spoke with her about her husband’s passing. An incredibly difficult day, made all the more surreal because I was still bobbing about in the ocean. Still, the little girl was saved because of her dad’s insights and love, and his ability to get that message through to me. That made his death somehow less terrible in some ways, as his actions saved their child’s life.

Bless you Nicole–for handling an unbelievably difficult situation with complete courage and grace. Thank you again for sharing your story. If one of us should ever be in a similar situation we have your trusted example and guidance.

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